Over the summer, we have had a stray cat live in the woods behind our house. She didn’t like us at first, but when she found out we provided food and we weren’t going to harm her, she warily approached.
We call her Claire (Her real name is Clarisse, according to Sophia), she doesn’t come inside often anymore because of the kitten that we found a few days ago.
A few days ago, Sophia and Dad saw a black cat in our chicken coop. It ran away before I was able to see it.
The next morning (Sophia was at school), Dad let Theodore out (our small dog whos nickname is Mr. Bean). He ran, barking, into the flowers and plants between a window and where the honeysuckle was climbing up the wall.
“There he is!” Dad shouted and ran out after Theo.
“Who?” I asked and got up from where I was working on my history lesson at the kitchen table.
I ran outside after Dad. I heard hissing and growling coming from the honeysuckle. Dad told me to put Mr. Bean inside, then to get gloves so he could grab the kitten. I couldn’t find any gloves except for thin knitted ones and Dad went to find some.
I watched the kitten while he searched so it didn’t go anywhere. It was tiny. I thought it was blind, because its greenish-yellow eyes were super filmy. His black fur was dusted brown with dirt. I talked to it to try to calm it down.
Dad came back and picked up the kitten. It got away from us once, but we cornered it again and brought it inside.
Later that day, our cousins, Isabelle and Ezra, came over after Sophia got home from school. We gave the kitten a bath, or they did anyway.
I didn’t like the kitten at all. I called it “Little Demon” (call me cruel, but I seriously hated the thing).
It stayed the night in the mudroom. A long and tall cardboard box keeping it in there.
Theodore loves the kitten. He plays with it all the time. Mr. Mittens normally dislikes other cats, but he tolerates the kitten. He hisses at it when it gets too close. Claire loathes it the most. She freaked out so much she hissed at the kitten and scratched Mr. Bean on the nose, then ran outside.
I have grown to like the kitten. It loves to climb up your leg (even when I’m wearing jeans, it hurts. Its has some sharp claws) and randomly runs around the kitchen/dinning room while batting at things. It doesn’t seem to know what my feet are, because when I try to walk past it, it attacks them. It loves sitting on top of my study papers as well (it was nearly impossible to do history with it nearby). It hates being alone. It will try to knock down the cardboard box divider just so it can be with us instead of in the mudroom.
It doesn’t have a name yet, and we don’t know its gender. We are thinking about naming it Thunder, Stormy, Tiddy-Cat, and we have quite a few other ideas. We may just call it “Kitten”.
Its odd having more than one cat in the house, I’m used to having one at a time.